


For You I'll Come Home

by Kellyscams



Series: Kells' Fic Fest [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Top Steve Rogers, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5889646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: All I really want to see is an AU where Steve never got the serum and Bucky lives. He comes home from the war, afraid of what the war has done to him and what that means for his relationship with Steve. And Steve ain't having that. Thank you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	For You I'll Come Home

The door is a sight for sore eyes. When Bucky left it last, he really thought he’d never see it again. The ugly, dirty wood with scratches and crack at the bottom righthand corner. Bucky hated those cracks. They meant an even greater chill during cold winter’s nights -- just one more thing Steve’s body needed to fight against. Now, Bucky could get down on his knees and kiss them. There they are -- crooked and ragged and ugly -- and welcoming him home. Home. Bucky’s home. 

And yet… his hand freezes when he brings the key to the lock, fingers squeezing tightly around it. This place is home, but will it still accept Bucky? He’s not the same man he was when he left. Gone is the easy-going spitfire who signed up for a war that he could have never prepared himself for. 

_This isn’t a back alley, Steve, it’s war,_ he had said the night before he left. 

Bucky thought he knew what that meant. He was wrong. There was no triumphant battle upon bloodsoaked grounds of victory. No cheers of joy or cries of heroes with the rewards and riches of greatness. Not like the stories and fairytales Bucky read with Steve when they were little. Instead, there were sprays of bullets and bodies on bloodsoaked grounds of violence. Cries of pain and anguish. Fear. So much fear. Nights laying flat in the dirt of a foxhole, staring up at the night sky and praying to a God he doesn’t believe in for one more day. Just one more chance to get home. To get to Steve. 

Now he’s here, with a key to home held tightly in his trembling hand, and Bucky has no idea if he’ll ever be the same to what waits inside. To Steve. To that punk kid who wanted more than anything to follow Bucky into battle and take down bullies and put a stop to a great and horrible wrong. But Bucky… Bucky’s seen his men -- men he was responsible for -- fall down around him. Get captured by an enemy greater than them. Has heard the anguished screams and cries in the middle of cold and lonely nights. Bucky’s watched the light of a man’s eyes slowly leave his body… by his own two hands. 

All Bucky wants to do now is go inside. He wants to go back to what it was before. He wants to see Steve smile at him. Wants to see that indignant, stubborn huff of his when he attempts to prove he can do something. Hell, Bucky’ll take bloody knuckles and broken noses everyday for the rest of his life if only Steve will look at him the way he used to. 

He can’t see how that’s possible now. Steve has always been the best man Bucky’s ever had the privilege of knowing. But he… he needs to find out if it’s at all possible. If those blue eyes will look upon him with the same sparkle they used to. 

Bucky turns the key and pushes the door open. 

It’s unearthly quiet inside the apartment, and Bucky realizes, for the first time, that he barely remembers the sounds of quiet. The peace that it can bring. Bucky looks around. Nothing has changed and yet nothing is the same. 

It’s messy. Messier than when he left it, but that’s not surprising. Of the two of them, Bucky’s always been a little neater than Steve. So it’s not surprising that the sink has dishes in it and there are books out and crumpled up pieces of paper scattered across the floor. On the table is a stack of mail and next to it… 

Bucky picks up the rejection forms. At least twenty of them. The one all the way at the bottom is Steve from Ohio. He never stopped. Kid kept trying to follow him. Putting the forms back down, Bucky moves into the living room and drops his duffel onto the ragged old couch that held Steve through so many illnesses. On the arm of it, rests a sketchpad. A part of Bucky is curious to see what’s inside. Sometimes Steve would show him his drawings, but… not all the time. He stares at it for a long moment before turning his gaze down the short hall. To the bedroom. 

No one. The bedroom is empty save for one small dresser and two beds. Steve’s is slept in, pillow dented and sheets all tangled. Bucky’s is made but creased. It looks like Steve has, at the very least, sat upon it. His bed. His own bed in his own home with Steve. Something strangles his heart. Bucky had longed for the feeling of relief, but that’s not it. He doesn’t know what it is. Not even when he lowers himself to the mattress and sits upon the bed he’s had women in and held Steve close to his chest -- hoping that the beat of his own heart would help Steve’s keep on pumping through dark, cold and sickly nights. 

He’s still sitting there, mind blank and heart numb, when the front door opens. Bucky slowly lifts his chin and looks out the bedroom door. He can just make out the living room from the corner of the bed he’s seated on. Hearing something hit the kitchen table -- a bag of groceries from the sounds of it -- he rises. Starts down the hall slowly, stopping right when Steve comes into view. 

Steve is grumbling to himself as he reads over something. A bill, perhaps. Maybe even another rejection. Whatever it is, he crumples it up in his hand and lets it drop to the floor. Steve takes a step towards the couch, arm stretched towards his sketchpad, only to freeze when he takes hold of it. From where he is, Bucky can hear Steve’s quick intake of breath before he brings his arm back in and slowly turns. 

Bucky is holding his breath, the air in his lungs completely still when he locks eyes with Steve, and for just one heartbeat, all's right with the world. 

“Bucky…” Steve breathes, as the book falls from his hand. 

Without even thinking, Bucky’s legs take him back into the living room. He moves hurried and unstopping, afraid this Steve will fade from his vision like so many others did. 

So often did Bucky imagine this moment. Of pulling Steve into his arms. Holding him close. Breathing in his scent. Hearing his voice. Feeling him close. Instead, Bucky drops to his knees right in front of Steve, buries his face in his belly, and cries. 

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, though he’s not even sure why the words are coming out. Bucky just feels the need to apologize. “I’m so sorry. I was… I was so scared, Steve.”

As Bucky goes on crying, Steve simply holds him close, staying quiet and letting Bucky get out whatever it is he needs to get out. His hands run through Bucky’s hair and over his head and across his neck. Time moves over Bucky in waves. Breaths hurt as he gasps them out and his nose is running and his entire body is just shaking. Bucky doesn’t know how long they stay like that. For all he knows he’s died, and if this is heaven he’ll gladly take it. After some time, the tears dry up and his lungs finally begin to settle. He’s still shaking, but less. It feels like he might just fall over if Steve was to take a step back. 

“Bucky?” Steve’s worried voice swirls around him. “Can you look at me?”

Yes. He wants to say that, but can’t seem to find his voice. Instead, he just does it. Looks up at Steve with the last few remaining tears in his eyes and Steve wipes them away.

“I’m tired,” Bucky whispers. 

“Okay.” Steve helps him back to his feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”

It’s strange, this reverse in roles. Normally, it’s Bucky helping Steve into bed. Not this time, and if this is the last of Steve he gets to have, that’s okay. 

Steve guides him to the bedroom where he draws back the blankets to Bucky’s bed and helps him in. He’s doesn’t even have enough time for his head to hit the pillow before he’s asleep. 

When he wakes, it’s with a scream ripped from his lungs. Bucky’d been so sure he was home. Home with Steve. Not in… not… no… he’s… he’s home. He’s home and in his bed and there’s Steve is sitting next to him on the mattress with his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Eyes red and watery. 

“Steve?” Bucky murmurs. “Why’re you cryin’?”

Steve scoffs. “Who cares. You’re home. You’re…” Steve puts his arms around his neck. “You’re home, Bucky Barnes. You’re home.”

Unsteady arms wrap around Steve’s waist. That relief Bucky longed for earlier is so close. Knocking on the door and maybe… maybe he can let it in. 

“Steve… if… if you want me to… to leave… I’ll understand…”

Steve pulls away so abruptly, Bucky almost topples over. “Why the hell would I want that? I just got you back.”

“It’s just…” Now or never. There’s no way Bucky can stand having this over his head. He’ll go crazy. “I… I left you. I’ve killed… I’ve… watched men die, Steve.” Tears sting his eyes again. “I just… if you can’t forgive me…”

“Bucky,” Steve says softly. “There’s nothing you could ever do that would make me want you to leave.”

“But… Steve…”

Steve shuts him up this time by planting a kiss -- hard, firm… _possessive_ \-- right on Bucky’s lips. A shock runs through Bucky’s body, zapping his belly and tingling down to his fingers and toes. Steve is… is kissing him. _Kissing_. The way Bucky’s longed to do since as far back as he can remember. Steve tastes like sunlight and life. Something good that Bucky’s been missing for much too long. Steve kisses like he’s not used to it. Not completely inexperienced, but lacking finesse. Everything about it is just so… _Steve_.

“I should’ve done that before you left,” Steve pants when he pulls back. Leaves their brows touching. “Let you know that I love you. I love you, Bucky Barnes.”

For a moment, Bucky’s heart beats with all the love he’s ever felt in the world. But it shrivels. Turns to rot because Steve isn’t understanding him. He’s no good for Steve. He’s _never_ been good enough for Steve. 

“Steve… please listen to me… I’m not the same person I was. I’m not…”

“Then I love this person, too.”

“Steve…”

" _Bucky_.” Steve tosses himself over Bucky’s lap. Quick and surprising enough that it makes Bucky fall back into the sheets. “You’ve been gone a year and a half. I thought…” Steve’s eyes get misty again. “I thought you were gone for good. If you think I’m lettin’ you outta my sights again you’re an even bigger jerk than I thought.”

“But…”

“ _No_ , Bucky.” Steve shakes his head and then peers down at him like he’s nervous now. “Unless…” A blush blossoms across his chest. Rises up and fills his entire face. “Unless you don’t… want me…”

Elation fill his heart, his lungs, his soul. Steve wants him. Even now. A changed man from when he left and just like that, Steve wants him.

“Stevie,” Bucky breathes. “You’ve always been my baby doll. I love you, too.”

A smile, soft and as pretty as the brightest dawn, breaks across Steve’s face. He leans down and brushes a kiss just under Bucky’s earlobe. 

“I wanna make love to you, Bucky,” he whispers. “Can I?”

Bucky’s breath shudders. He looks back at Steve with every ounce of love he possesses and nods. Steve grins and presses another kiss to Bucky’s lips as he grinds slowly over him. Bucky can feel that Steve is hard already and his own length began swelling the moment Steve threw himself over him. 

Steve’s long fingers take to unbuttoning Bucky’s shirt, making hard work of a simple task, but he gets it done and starts peppering kisses along his chest. A chill whispers across Bucky’s skin as Steve’s lips feather over everywhere. Bucky’s so used to doing this to others. No one’s ever done it for him. No one’s ever slid his pants down and slowly kissed up his legs. 

“Stevie…” he moans quietly as Steve’s mouth kisses over the erection pushing against his underwear. “Oh… oh shit…”

Once Bucky is completely naked, Steve begins to shed his own clothes before kneeling back down between Bucky’s legs. Every inch of Bucky’s skin is on fire. Engulfed in white flames that he’s never felt before -- not with anyone he’s shared a bed with. They burn deep into his muscles and Bucky lets out a shout when Steve pushes a finger into him. It’s all slicked up already and Steve slides it in and out, painfully slow. 

Bucky feels everything tightening and yet his body loosens around Steve’s fingers as he gradually adds two more -- stretching and stretching him out. 

“S-Steve…” Bucky stutters. “I… I need to feel you…”

“You sure, Buck?” Steve asks as he licks up and over Bucky’s erection. “You’re ready?”

“Yes… oh yes.. Steve… please…”

Steve doesn’t need any more convincing than that. He climbs up onto the bed with Bucky and gently guides Bucky’s legs up and over his shoulders. Taking his time, Steve slowly pushes in. It hurts, it does, Bucky’s never felt this before, and he cries out, but he can’t imagine anything else feeling so amazing. 

“Bucky…” Steve groans. Voice so low. So heated. “You feel… holy shit you feel so good.” He’s staring right in Bucky’s eyes and he moves, sweet and slow. “Are you okay?” 

Body shaking everywhere, Bucky gasps and nods as his hand bite down around Steve’s skinny waist. Breaths backing up on him, Bucky pushes little noises out of his throat. It burns with every gentle thrust. Burns and makes Bucky see stars. His cock is rock hard and pressed up against his belly. Leaking. Without thinking, Bucky takes hold of it, needing the feel of warmth and friction. But Steve moves that hand away. 

“No,” he huffs. “I wanna do it. For you.”

Steve’s long, soft hand wraps around him and Bucky’s head falls back into the pillow. A sighs and moans and whimpers as Steve moves his hand up and down and over. Squeezing just enough that it makes Bucky shudder and gasp. 

“Buck…” Steve pants. “Bucky… I ain’t gonna… last… M’gonna…”

All Bucky’s able to do is nod. He’s just as close and never gonna be able to hold back. Not with Steve inside of him and moving his hand so perfectly. Steve is trembling and moving with more force now and Bucky feels the world closing in and then exploding in sparkles and glitter, and just as he comes undone, he feels Steve seize and empty out inside of him. Fills Bucky up with something so much more than release, and damn near collapsed on top of him. 

Their sweat soaked, messy bodies press together as Bucky pulls Steve in for a kiss. He’s never felt so close to someone, never filled with so much love and trust, and Bucky never wants to let go.

Steve rests his head just under Bucky’s chin, still shaking a little -- Bucky’s shaking more -- and running fingers over Bucky’s chest. 

“Welcome home, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky smiles and kisses the top of Steve’s head. 

Home.

He’s home.


End file.
